


I am Bad at Fight Scenes

by kabrox18



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Gen, some of them are only mentioned
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-15
Updated: 2016-09-15
Packaged: 2018-08-15 05:02:53
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,775
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8043568
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kabrox18/pseuds/kabrox18
Summary: what it says on the can, mi amigo.just overwatch barf--they're on hanamura, point B, by the way





	I am Bad at Fight Scenes

The spectre purred as his eyes set on a target--that teen brat and her ugly, bubblegum pink mech. He slipped up behind, twisting her round and ripping her foolishly exposed hands off the controls, leaving her helpless and trapped. So easy.

“You attacked us,” he said, voice rolling around with amusement, and he delighted in the terror her face held. Both snapped their gazes over when Hanzo was gunned down again, the Respawn system claiming him after a bit. Reaper didn't notice however and lifted D.Va’s hands, studying them calmly.

“Your hands are everything to you. Yes?” He looked up at her, the faint red glow of his irises coming up to meet her deep brown eyes.

“Uhh…” She looked down to his clawed hands grasping her wrists, then back up to his mask. For a moment, she registered he shouldn't be tall enough to do this--she peeked down and saw his entire lower half was smoke, churning the air and keeping him afloat. So, that's how he was doing this.

“I don't wanna tell you,” she finally answered, trying to pull her hands free, only to feel his grip tighten, claw-tips digging in.

“I know they are. Don't lie to me.” He leaned in closer, not even batting an eye as he shifted his grip and crushed both of them, claws shredding through the thin gloves of her suit and leaving her skin in a mess. She  _ screamed _ , god she screamed. It was loud and pained but it didn't cover the stomach-churning laughter boiling out of the wraith. She hurried off as he let go, drilling the back of her Meka with both shotguns. She was worse for wear, but couldn't get a warning out for Lucio, who zipped in, getting clotheslined by the spectre. He choked and spluttered from his place on the ground, worry lighting his features as the ghost kneeled by him, looking him over with faux interest.

“Hm. Musician.”

“Uh, yeah. Scary ghost.” The Brazilian pointed up the the wraith, who grinned despite his mask.

“We done with introductions, boogeyman?”

“A children's tale. A nightmare.” Reaper mused aloud, grunting when he was caught off guard by the young man’s pulse ability. He was knocked back on the mat, Lucio quickly jumping back to his feet. Reaper wasn't slow by any means either, and caught the cheery musician in a painful grip on his slim forearm. It was his firing arm, the Brazilian youth realized belatedly, and gave a muffled sob when he felt both bones snap under the vengeful monster’s deadly grip. Reaper chuckled softly, raising a shotgun and putting him down. Widowmaker watched from a ledge up high--she had seen everything. The spectre below was being particularly vicious and merciless today. Bad mood? Something was making him behave like this. She was busy and didn't have time to think about it, but a question would be asked later. Her thoughts were interrupted by Fareeha Amari leaping into the air, shouting a battle cry as volleys of rockets pounded the sniper. Or that's what the Egyptian thought--Widowmaker had used her grappling hook to escape the second she saw the Raptora suit in the large room. The rockets ran dry and she glided down, right into Reaper’s clutches. He shredded her armor, each shot forcing her back.

“Come on,  _ Pharah, _ ” he sneered at her, only stopping to dump his empty weapons and retrieve more.

“No!” She cried out, desperately firing a knockback rocket between them. He howled in anger and was sent back, slamming painfully against the bronze statue that watched the room. Pharah was thrown back as well, vision blacking as she was claimed by Respawn. He scooped her soul up, feeding himself and grabbing a small med-pack from a side room to get himself back in shape. He paced the room; three attacks, two kills. They only had a minute and forty seconds before they were allowed to pull back to a safer distance, he could manage that. 

That's when the Old Fart Squad showed up--Ana up high, and Reinhardt storming in with a barrier to keep that damn soldier safe from the devastating firepower of Reaper’s weapons. 76 chipped at him from behind the barrier; it was one way, allowed friendlies to shoot out but prevented enemies from shooting in. No problem, just get behind it. He ghosted, sliding right through the warm, delicious energy and ending up on the other side. Reinhardt dropped the barrier--it was useless now, they both knew that. The spectre  _ roared _ as he opened fire, shooting at both of them to give himself a moment to regenerate. Widowmaker had reclaimed her position; the high powered shot startled both attackers, allowing Reaper a tiny opportunity to pull fresh shotguns from under his cloak. He turned his focus to Reinhardt, the giant was hard to miss and it didn't take long before he collapsed, leaving 76 exposed. He backed up fast--his only saving grace would be to get out of range of those damn shotguns--but the predictable movement allowed the sniper up high to take a solid headshot. Now they just had to deal with Ana. She was tucked in a corner, rifle up and aimed at Reaper. She made a rapid motion, too fast for someone her age, and Reaper was knocked flat on his back, vision blurring and going bright as the tranquilizer emptied into his chest. He gurgled and struggled on the ground, hissing at the shots that landed painfully, dipping further into him each time. He _finally_ got up and ghosted again, avoiding the IFF-sensitive formula she tossed at him. He grabbed another medkit below the bridge leading up to the lamps and mat above. He heard several shots go off, and the sound of more rockets. Widowmaker gave a shout as she went down, and he stealthily slipped up the stairs along the side of the room, watching D.Va and Lucio both join Ana and now Pharah at the point. 

They were down to 58 seconds on the timer and they needed a plan--he felt a welcome and familiar tingle of energy and slid along the white walls, coming up to the side of the statue before suddenly charging in, none of the four having enough time to react as he dumped lead into them, screaming in delight as he killed each of them, spiraling around and blasting wildly until he felt that energy fade. He laughed after and scooped up their souls--as many as he could fit into himself--and waited patiently for more to come. Widowmaker strode out, thanking him quietly before grappling back up to her ledge. The timer ticked down to 40 and it seemed they were going to be overrun any moment now--except it didn't come. Widowmaker was leaned against a window, picking them off carefully and keeping each at bay. That is, until Reinhardt charged in, boosted by Ana and slamming down that hammer of his, knocking the spectre groundside on his ass. Widowmaker continued to focus on the people outside, only firing her poison trap to give Reaper a boon. He managed to get up and started to fight back, quickly growing weak from the battering he was receiving. The clock continued its tick down to 35 seconds, and Reaper ghosted away quickly, scooping up a freshly transported medkit from the side room. Reinhardt followed, and received a solid dose of revenge for attacking the vengeful ghost so blindly. His soul was consumed again and Reaper stepped back onto the point. 30 seconds, he thought, wishing time would hurry up. His spider friend up top could only assist so much and if she slipped up, they could get overwhelmed and fail the objective. She was doing excellently though, and only Lucio managed to get through, only to be halted rather viciously by a reprogrammed Bastion unit that showed its face behind the spectre. It blooped happily to the dead man, who reached to awkwardly pat its boxy head.

“Go reconfigure in that corner there. They won't be able to hit your back.” He pointed, watching the omnic move to the corner and shift, changing into its turret mode. Now they had an even more impenetrable defense, and Reaper got a chance to go grab yet another medkit to patch himself up. Talon wouldn't be happy with one of their top agents getting punched full of holes and battered, but Overwatch, or rather, this disgusting reanimated corpse of Overwatch, didn't care in the least if he was more dead than usual, or in his current borderline state. He went back up to the mat, sighing in relief at the timer reading 15 seconds left, only to be interrupted by the deafening  _ brrrrrrrrrrt _ of the Bastion’s machine gun onlining. It pinged off a frontal defense matrix hardwired into one frustrating pink mech, but it meant Reaper could fire at will on its flanks and back without worrying about getting shot at in return. The girl was forced from her dying Meka, shredded by a hail of lead from the omnic. 76 ducked and weaved but met a similar fate; Pharah was halted in her advances by a rather pissy ghost groundside. The ceiling was only so high here, and he was delighted in the knowledge his shotguns could hit her and still dish damage at this range. Very little, yes, but enough to distract her and force her to move around. The turret couldn't lock on--the spectre didn't notice, didn't care--he was too busy focusing on her and the timer as the last 8 seconds agonizingly buzzed away. Pharah finally went down and the Bastion beeped, alerting the wraith of a target where it couldn't reach. He turned to find Lucio again, getting forced back by a pulse. He skidded, but stayed standing; it’d been at range and packed less of a punch. He charged again, each bark of his beloved weapons echoing around the room. Widowmaker fired another poison mine to cover the door and thankfully-- _ thankfully, _ before any others could reach the point, the timer ran out. 

The two Talon agents scampered off, the Bastion following. It was a success and Reaper was so damn pleased with himself, pleased with the fear he’s seen, the souls he’d tasted. Widowmaker even had a ghost of a smile over her face, and the Bastion bleeped contentedly to itself. They ran back to their transport as the Overwatch agents surged in, now unhindered by the lack of resistance. It was too late, the terrorist group had already achieved its goal here.


End file.
